


help me hold onto you

by AtLoLevad



Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, F/M, Happy Ending, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 03:47:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20464502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtLoLevad/pseuds/AtLoLevad
Summary: Tony and Ziva are reunited. It won't be easy, but it's more than worth it.





	help me hold onto you

"Hey," Tony knocks on the door even as he pushes it open. The hinges squeak and groan at his gentle touch, making him wonder briefly when the last time Gibbs used the guest room.

Ziva looks up from the spread of pictures that cover the old quit. She shifts, knees jostling the paper and sending some of the pictures on the edges of the bed floating to the floor. He can see the way her eyes are bloodshot, and her cheeks are damp, but still, Ziva offers him a soft, apologetic smile. It seems like her default expression always has a tinge of apology in it lately.

"Hi," she returns, quickly gathering the remaining pictures into a haphazard pile. She waves her hand vaguely at the bed, "Sit?"

Tony offers up his own apologetic smile and leans against the dresser, feet away from the foot of the bed. "Gonna stand, if you don't mind. It's not ... I've been trying to sit less. Heart health and all that."

It's a flimsy excuse, a poor front for what he really wants to say: if I sit next to you, if I'm within arm's distance of touching you, I don't know if I can say what needs to be said.

She understands and gives him a quick little nod of her head. It's been a long couple of days, couple of _years_ really, and she's said so much and still not enough. "Tali," she starts, landing on the topic that should be so easy to talk about, "is she ...?" Ziva trails off, unsure of what she even intends to ask.

"With Jimmy and Breena," Tony finishes, recognizing the unasked question in her eyes. "They, uh, took her and Victoria to the park. Heard some chatter about ice cream and the pet store too." He laughs a little, thankful, so fucking thankful, that Tali and Victoria were around the same age and that Jimmy and Breena were more than happy to watch Tali and include her in outings so the adults could talk things out.

"Oh," Ziva's shoulders slump, releasing tension that she hadn't even been aware of. "Good. I am ... it's good that Tali is getting along with Victoria."

"Yeah," Tony nods. He tilts his head a little. "Y'know, I've heard you use more contractions in the past seven days than you used in seven years at NCIS."

Again, it's a pathetic attempt at breaking the tension, the awkwardness. But Ziva allows it, allows him to guide the path that this encounter is going to take. After all, it's the least she can do.

She nods, blinking a little and exhaling a soft, almost-laugh. "I am better at some of them," she says. "Others," she waves her hand back and forth in the air - so-so. "I've been, well, everywhere and sometimes English was the easiest. Besides, it made me -" she cuts herself off, biting her tongue.

_Made me feel closer to you_ – what she was going to say. But the pain in his eyes is so fresh and so real and she feels like a monster for all that she's put him through in the past six years.

Tony notices the abrupt censoring - of course he does, it's not like she was subtle about it - and awkwardness settles over the room. It's been like that all week - awkward. Ever since he and Tali landed at Dulles - McGee's voice ringing in Tony's ears, "She's alive and she's _home_." - anxiety causing Tony to vibrate and confusion rolling off of Tali in waves, the brief conversations they've had have been stilted and hesitant.

She hates it.

He hates it too.

But, beyond the initial, bone-crushing hug of relief, and the rushed explanation of her past whereabouts, Tony and Ziva haven't had a chance to really sit down and talk. Not in the way they so desperately need to. Especially with the way they had left things in Israel in 2013, especially with Tali to consider now.

"Well," Tony cracks a smile, "when you start getting idioms right, then I'll know I'm in the matrix."

Ziva manages a strangled laugh as her gaze catches on one of the pictures that floated to the floor earlier. It's a selfie of Tali and Tony - their daughter can't be more than 3 or 4, so it was most likely taken right around father and daughter's first year together, and the little girl's arms are locked around Tony's neck and their cheeks are pressed together, squishing their features, but not hiding the wide grins on their faces. A son catches in the back of her throat.

"Wha-? Oh," Tony asks and then follows her line of sight. He steps forward and bends to pick up the photo. Fiddling a little with the edges, he chews on the side of her cheek for a minute before saying, "For a while, when the language barrier was still an issue, I got her to perk up by taking selfies with silly faces." He pauses, and then shakes his head with a laugh, "When that stopped working, we moved on to ice cream bribes."

Wiping away the few tears that had escaped, Ziva smiles carefully. "Does she still like strawberry?"

Tony nods. "Yeah, strawberry's definitely the first choice. But we've expanded her palate to include the rest of the classics and a few others," he ticks them off on his fingers, crumpling the picture slightly, "pistachio, mint chip, cotton candy - disgusting by the way - and butter pecan."

It breaks the tension a little, talking about Tali and her ice cream habits, but still, there's a pit of grief in Ziva's stomach, gnawing away.

"I know that I've said it before," she sighs, brushing her fingers over the stack of photos sitting next to her crossed legs, "but I am so sorry, Tony."

"I know," he replies easily, the soft look in his hazel eyes contradicted by the hard set of his jaw. He scrubs a hand over his face, fingers catching on the week-old stubble that he hasn't been bothering to deal with. "I know," he repeats, almost to himself. "But, fuck, Ziva. I'm trying ... I'm trying so hard not to blame you, not to be furious at you, because all I've wanted for the past six years is to see you again. But I am. I'm fucking furious."

His tone is measured, but he's started pacing around the room. She knows that the tension and stress he visibly carries on his shoulders is her fault and she knows that there is not much she can say to alleviate it right now, so she lets him talk, knowing she'll get a turn to have her say.

"You should've told me," he sighs, "about T. I ... she was the biggest shock of my life, Ziva. But what I wouldn't do for that little girl." He shakes his head and gives her a sad look, "But you know all about that."

"I do," she says quietly. Giving up her daughter - even if it had been to Tony - and knowing that there was a chance she would never see Tali again, there was a part of her heart and soul that would never recover from that decision and separation. "I know very well what a parent would do for their child. And I need you to know that I did not make my decisions - any of them - lightly. Nor did I do it to hurt you, Tony."

Tony nods. "Took me a long time to figure that out, but I know you, better than you think I do, and I know what family means to you." He stops pacing at the foot of the bed and stands there, looking her in the eye, "I'm sorry, Ziva. I'm sorry that you felt you had to keep her from me, that you had to do it all by yourself, that you missed so much time with her. I'm just sorry about this entire mess of a situation."

He pushes a hand roughly through his hair, making it stick up in all directions, and suddenly, he looks younger to Ziva's eyes. Younger and insecure and scared.

"I'm sorry about T's reaction too," he says quietly, finally reaching out and grasping her hand. His fingers wrap around hers and squeeze. She clings to his touch, the warmth spreading through her own body, even as tears come to her eyes.

She shakes her head. "I knew ... after being away for so long ... it was -" Ziva breaks off, tears falling heavily down her cheeks, her throat closing up with grief.

The reunion with her daughter hadn't gone as she had been expecting. Of course Ziva knew that it wouldn't be smooth, but the outright rejection of a hug or even a squeeze of the hand from Tali had broken her already cracked heart into pieces. The little girl - days away from her 6th birthday (How? How had she let it go on that long? Let time get away from her so quickly?) - had shaken her head at the sight of Ziva, at the mere mention of her Ima, running through Gibbs' unfamiliar house, up the stairs and into the first spare room she could find, the slamming of the door echoing for what felt like hours after it happened. Tony and Ziva had stood - awkwardly, always awkwardly now - in the living room, looking at each other, until Tony had sighed and said, "I'm going to go talk to her," before climbing the steps himself and leaving Ziva alone.

That had been yesterday and Ziva's heart was still broken.

"I showed her pictures all the time," Tony promises, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed, still holding her hand. "Told her stories. Got McGee on the line too. She'll come around," he says firmly. "She will," he repeats for emphasis.

Ziva wipes away tears with her free hand and laughs weakly. "Her own mother left her with a stranger and had no contact for three years. What damage have I done to her? What damage have I done to you? To ... us?"

"Nothing that a little therapy won't fix," Tony jokes, a little of his old mischief glinting in his eyes. His grip on her hand tightens. "Seriously, Ziva, T's going to come around. She's a kid - she's resilient. Hell, she adapted to living in Paris with me."

It's meant to be self-deprecating, a balm to soothe Ziva's guilt and hurt feelings, but all it does is remind Ziva of the impossible and unfair circumstances she dumped in his lap three years ago.

"It was unfair to you, Tony," she says, looking up at him. "I should never have let it get that far."

He shrugs a little. "Not gonna argue with you there, but you did what you had to do." He frowns a little, runs his tongue over his teeth and then blurts out, "Would you ever have told me? About Tali? If there was no threat?"

Ziva's hand shakes a little as she picks at a loose thread on the quilt. She hesitates, but then says, "Yes," firmly. "I would have, Tony," she promises. "I ... we were not ... I was not ..."

She can't seem to find the words to articulate her thought process back in 2013, but Tony thinks he understands a little. After all, they had been nothing really - just a couple of co-workers, best friends, idiots with their heads up their asses and a whole host of emotional issues and baggage between them. They'd danced around each other, closer and closer to _something_, until Israel happened and _something_ turned out to be separation by an ocean and a surprise daughter.

"We were so messed up," he huffs a humorless laugh, his thumb stroking her knuckles subconsciously.

Ziva nods, sighing in relief that he seems to understand. "And when Tali came, I was so set, so convinced that I would ruin your life. Time kept moving forward and you never called and I never called." She shrugs, "And then it seemed too late."

"I should've called or texted or shown up in Israel and dragged you back home," Tony replies. There's a sad look in his eyes.

"I was not ready to be ... loved then," Ziva says carefully, hesitatingly. It feels too charged, too explosive to use the l-word. But it's out there now.

Tony looks down at their hands, pensive. He swallows heavily. "You were though," he says quietly, almost under his breath. Ziva's heart stutters in her chest at his use of the past tense. Until...

"Are," he corrects himself, a little louder. Tony looks at her and lets out a disbelieving little noise. "As mad as I am at you ..." he trails off, and Ziva can see him thinking, can see his thoughts trying to sort themselves out in his head. He says the next words in a terrified rush, "I'm still in love with you. I love you, Ziva."

Ziva's eyes go wide - they've never said the words like that, plainly and openly and honestly. It's always been veiled, hidden behind jokes and hypotheticals and rescue missions. To hear Tony say the words that she's wanted him to say for so long - it feels like it's happening to someone else.

"I love you, Tony," she returns, exhaling softly. She takes a risk and lifts her free hand to cup his cheek. Tony leans into her touch and the scrape of his stubble on her palm makes her feel bold and fearless. "I have for a long time."

It feels good to admit it to him.

He laughs again, slightly hysterically, his breath warm on her skin.

"What?" she asks, tilting her head and frowning. Her hand falls away from his face and lands to rest on his knee.

Still laughing, Tony answers, "We're so messed up, Ziva! How did we do this all backwards? How are we going to do this going forward? T needs us both."

"I don't know," Ziva says, beginning to laugh a little herself. All these years she's only ever wanted to get back to Tony and Tali - her family. "I just ... I want to be with my daughter."

"Our daughter," Tony raises an eyebrow. "She's mine too, Ziva," his tone is edged in a warning - fear that she might pull a disappearing act again. She deserves that, deserves his skepticism.

"Our daughter," she corrects. "I will not separate you from her again, Tony. I promise you that. Besides," she says, a wry twist to her lips, "she knows you and barely remembers me."

"If you're not going anywhere and I'm not going anywhere," Tony points out, "that'll change. Before you know it, she'll be demanding that you tuck her in and I'll be pushed to the side."

"I'm not going anywhere," Ziva vows.

"And neither am I," Tony promises.

There's still so much to hash out in the coming days, weeks, months. So many logistical issues to be sorted out. Tony's still angry - as he has a right to be. Tali will need so much love and attention, which they're both more than happy to give.

But.

Tony's here, holding her hand and looking at her the way he looked at her in the orange grove in Be'er Sheva.

"I think," he says slowly, "that we should probably try for some normalcy."

"What does that even look like?" Ziva sighs, thinking of the mess she left in her wake, the burned aliases and her own trauma.

Tony shrugs. "Maybe we just start with a dinner date?"

"How normal," Ziva teases, heart pounding in her chest.

"We've already done the secret kid thing, the running for our lives thing, the fake death thing," he teases back, hazel eyes glittering. "Maybe a boring old dinner date will be our greatest challenge."

Ziva's shoulders relax. She laughs shortly. "I think I could do without any more challenges."

"Yeah," Tony agrees, "me too."

It's not perfect - not even close. They still have so much to talk about, to fight about, to learn and relearn about each other. Tony's life is Tali and Paris. Ziva's life hasn't been her own for years. Tali only knows Ziva as a distant memory.

It's going to be hard, harder possibly than anything else she's ever done.

But Tony's hand is warm in hers and Tali is happy and healthy and safe.

And for now, that's enough.

For everything that she's let go of in the past, hope for her future - their future together - is something she's holding onto.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm entirely unwell about the blessing that NCIS is giving us and I'm back on my Tiva/Ziva bullshit lol. Send me prompts, come chat/scream incoherently with me over on my Tumblr - thewintersoldierdisaster
> 
> I'm so freaking excited - let me know what you think!


End file.
